The Space Between
by Annie Blythe
Summary: "The space between your heart and mine is the space we'll fill with time." Back at 15, back in the saddle, back to normal, right? Post-suspension oneshot, predominantly Sam POV.


**A/N: **While working on some new story ideas, this oneshot popped out. The post-suspension aftermath has been done a million times over, but here I am, tossing my hat in the ring.

If you're reading RB fan fiction, I assume you belong to one of two schools of thought: 1) Andy and Sam blissfully spend their suspension in each other's arms, or 2) After lengthy separation, Andy and Sam joyfully reunite on their first day back.

This is a slightly different take, but nonetheless, I hope it's satisfactory.

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Rookie Blue.**

* * *

><p>"<em>You wanna try being normal together?"<em>

"_How are we gonna do that?"_

"_I don't know," he says, shrugging offhandedly. "I have no idea."_

_The corners of her mouth tug, and she meets his gaze almost wistfully. "Look, I called a cab, and we're not supposed to be…"_

"_Yeah," he nods slowly, masking his disappointment. "I know. Three weeks."_

"_I just couldn't wait inside the division; everyone is…" She glances around quickly, her eyes returning to his face. She sighs heavily, but a moment later, she's broaching the next topic with renewed determination. "Your injuries… I mean, physically…?"_

"_I'm a little banged up," he replies, hedging. "But I'll be okay."_

_She nods again, sorrow written in her eyes. "I'm so sor-"_

"_Andy," he says, cutting her off and shaking his head. "None of that. Three weeks, alright? It won't be long until we're together, and we can…" He trails off, intent on leaving her with cheerful words. He smiles at her, soft and slow. "Just… take care, okay?"_

_She bites her lip before nodding. "You, too."_

* * *

><p>Turns out, three weeks is a lot longer in practice than in theory.<p>

There were a million things he could have said before he pulled away from the curb, and he's spent three weeks mulling over every single one.

_Thank you for finding me._

_This wasn't your fault. _

_My first thought was __**you.**_

Countless nights he had laid awake, thoughts swirling, alternately smacking himself for being an idiot and wishing beyond belief that he could call her without professional repercussion. If it was just his job on the line…

Well, his course of action may have been different.

Now, as he stands stock-still in the center of the barn, each of those thoughts hit him at warp speed. His eyes follow her, and he smiles his first genuine smile in twenty-two days.

The smile she returns is uneasy, and that's his first clue.

"Um, hi," she greets, her eyes flickering to his before dropping quickly to the floor. "I, um, didn't see you at Parade, so…"

He resists the urge to wrap his arms around her, settles for running a hand through his hair. "Had to be cleared for duty, then a follow-up debrief at Guns and Gangs. Frank didn't schedule my meeting until this afternoon…"

"Right," she says, nodding her head. "I, uh –" She blows out a breath of air, fussing with her ponytail and nodding, "Right, of course."

He senses her anxiety, the note of hesitation in her voice, and he wants to clear the air immediately. "Listen, I still have to submit some forms, but…"

"Great," she says, effectively cutting him off, a touch too bright to be authentic. "Well, I should…" She jerks a thumb in the direction of her desk before dropping her hand, wiping a sweaty palm on her uniform-clad leg. "Paperwork, you know."

He stares at her for a beat, then nods slowly. "Alright."

She glides past, room for the holy ghost and then some, careful not to brush against him. He watches her with pursed lips, noting the stiffness of her spine.

(He's pretty sure his heart is somewhere near his knee and still sinking.)

Three weeks without a reassurance… He can only imagine what kind of grisly scenes she's envisioned, the catalogue of regrets and mistakes she's added his name to. He wants to curse I.A. and turn back the clock, convince her to get into his truck and just _drive_, leave Toronto and 15 behind. He knows that every pitying glance is a reminder of their collective mistakes, knows that it tears her apart…

(He also knows that of the catastrophically dumb mistakes he's made in his lifetime, she doesn't number among them.)

His voice echoes across the station before he realizes his mouth is even open.

"Hey, McNally?"

She freezes, turning on her heel toward him, shoulders tense. "Yeah?"

(Not total oblivion, then.)

"Did you hear about the guy whose left side was cut off?"

Her brow furrows, and she eyes him warily. "No. Was that when… I mean, like in the past three weeks?"

"No, happened just this morning," he says seriously, knitting his eyebrows together and holding her gaze. "He's all right now."

It's a nod to familiarity and partners and whatever else they were before they were _this, _and he prays she gets the memo. Her grin is brief, gone in a flash, but it's enough.

* * *

><p>He spends the rest of the afternoon watching the clock; body tired like he's spent the day swimming through molasses.<p>

(If he thought swimming through molasses would get him to the other side, free and clear of whatever this _distance_ is, he would have done it. Pass him some goggles and stretch it out like Phelps, there's not much he _wouldn't_ do.)

She makes a run for it when shift is over, showering faster than he's ever seen. If her hair wasn't wet, he would have assumed she skipped it altogether.

"McNally," he calls across the parking lot, his eyes following the streak of dark brown hair. He thinks about jogging over, settles for walking briskly instead.

"Nash," he says as he approaches, nodding at Traci but keeping his eyes locked on Andy.

Traci raises a hand in silent greeting, lowering it when she realizes where Sam's attention is directed.

"Um, Trace," Andy says softly, staring at her mittens, "Give us a minute?"

"Sure thing," Traci replies, stepping back. "I'll just be, uh – over there." She waves a hand in the direction of her car, backpedalling with purpose. "Uh, welcome back, Officer Swarek."

As she backs away, Sam raises his voice a degree, acknowledging Traci with a brief glance. "Nash, I'll take McNally home."

Eyes flickering between the couple, Traci nods carefully. "Okay, um. Probably a good idea for you guys to talk, so... Andy, I'll see you in the morning, alright?"

With that, she shoots across the parking lot, the heat of Andy's indignant gaze on her back.

The next minute is a long one, marked by shuffling feet and deep breaths.

"Sam," Andy starts to say, halting abruptly while a group of night-shift officers walk by, their faces far too inquisitive for Sam's liking. She waits for them to pass before opening her mouth, a quiet huff of air escaping.

"Sam," she begins again, "We're just coming off suspension…"

"Andy," he counters quietly, his tone careful and measured. "I meant what I said. No going back."

She shifts nervously on her feet, her eyes darting from his shoulders to his truck in the distance. "I was going to call you," she insists, tugging at a loose string on her jacket. "I was going to call you, I swear, but Sam… I just thought it would be better if we left separately, you know?" She swallows thickly, finally daring to meet his gaze.

"_Andy_," he repeats, all pretense stripped from his voice. "Andy, whatever anyone else thinks…"

"You've had three weeks," she blurts out, hands rubbing her arms, a futile effort against the bitter chill of the air. "You've had three weeks to figure out what a colossal screw-up I am."

He barely registers the cold, his focus on the stream of nonsense falling from her lips.

_Screw-up?_

He's not sure how to field this one; she's the closest to crying he's seen since he stepped off that porch, and her reasoning is far from logical. He wants to say a million things – _Two to tango_, he **asked** her to stay, not to mention the self-righteous bastard that orchestrated this fiasco…

(Three weeks hasn't done much to dull his anger toward Boyd. If anybody is in need of God's good grace, it's him, if Sam ever runs into him out of uniform.)

His gaze softens as he stares at her, eyes unblinking and sorrowful. For a brief moment, he wonders how many years she's spent blaming herself for things beyond her control, absentee parents and alcoholism and cheating fiancés. It's done a number on her ability to evaluate personal situations without bias of guilt.

He decides to volley.

Taking a step toward her, he says calmly, "And you've had three weeks to figure out I'm a cynical old man who's not worth your time."

"Sam," she protests, shaking her head vigorously. "Don't be stupid, okay? I would never…"

"**_Yeah_**, McNally," he says, nodding along with her. "And _**I**_ would never…"

She looks stricken for a moment before her shoulders slump, and she leans heavily against the chain link fence behind her.

"Andy," he says gently, taking another step toward her. "If I could have called you without jeopardizing your job; if I could have told you all this before… You _have to _know, after all this time…"

He breaks off, not keen on making any sort of declaration in the parking lot of 15 Division. _Time and place, _he thinks, _And this ain't it_.

Instead, he falls back on humor, their contingency plan for uncomfortable situations. "I, uh, don't just call my partners out of the blue while I'm undercover, Andy. That's not run-of-the-mill behavior for me." He grins, raising a hand to thumb at her jaw. "Brad Denton, my last partner? Probably would have been weirded out, to tell you the truth."

Her mouth curves into a small smile, and she exhales deeply.

He takes that as a sign of encouragement and continues. "I know three weeks is a lot of time to stew, alright? But I… I want to give this a shot, Andy. We're worth that much, aren't we?"

He tugs her hat around her ears, tilting her chin up. Pressing his lips together, he stares at her for a long moment. His voice is a rough whisper when he speaks again. "And if you can't trust yourself, trust me, okay?"

She wipes at her eyes, sniffling audibly.

He closes the distance between them, winding his arms around her.

"I missed you," she murmurs into his neck, her voice muffled and low. "God, Sam, I missed you _so much_."

They stand in the deserted parking lot, her face against his chest and his hands in her hair. It's peaceful, this solitude, when they're not operating on borrowed time.

"Let's go home, alright?" he mutters after a long moment, wrapping his hand around hers, squeezing.

Leading her to his truck, he releases a breath for what feels like the first time all day.

* * *

><p>"So, uh. This is not how I pictured our… <em>reunion<em>," he says an hour later, handing her a steaming cup of coffee and taking a seat on the couch.

"Yeah?" she prompts, folding her legs in his lap and resting her head on his shoulder. Tonight the desire for consolatory physical contact is a two-way street. "How did you picture this going?"

"Hmm... You know, something classic. I catch your eye from across the barn, music swells, slow-mo run where you jump into my arms," he teases as she laces their fingers together.

"I could have lived with that," she muses thoughtfully. Then, sobering, she adds, "I don't know if I would have jumped into your arms, though. You're still on the mend."

Gently rotating his wrist, she runs a finger over the skin. "How's your wrist?"

"Better," he says candidly, meeting her gaze. "Not one hundred percent yet, but better." Then, because he wants to be honest: "Gonna be riding the desk for a while."

She nods silently, curling into his side. "I think we're _both_ gonna be riding the desk. Albeit desks that are far, far away from each other. Electric fences and windowless walls in between, if I had to take a guess."

She feels him smile against her shoulder, and it bolsters her confidence.

"Listen, I'm sorry about earlier, I just…" Her speech is somewhat stilted, and the tiny tremor doesn't go unnoticed by Sam. "If something more had happened…"

He goes for broke. "Hate to break it to you, Andy, but you're not gonna get rid of me that easily."

Her words are a quiet rebuke. "_Sam_…"

He heaves a sigh, his next words soft and sincere. "I know, Andy."

They're quiet for a moment, each lost in thought.

"Listen, we have a lot more to talk about…" Sam begins, resting a heavy hand on her knee.

She sighs quietly. "Yeah, you're right."

"But…" He squeezes her arm, whispering against her temple, "I think that's enough for tonight."

Something in her chest loosens, and she nods in agreement.

He wraps one hand around her mug, removing it from her hand and placing it on the coffee table. Adjusting her on his lap, he rubs a warm hand over her jaw and rests his forehead against hers. Their noses bump, and he moves his hand down to her hips, pulling her closer.

Lowering his lips to hers, he moves slowly but with practiced ease. It's familiar and warm, and he wonders how he made it three whole weeks without...

(He's okay with getting a little lost in her, that's all.)

"I really did miss you," she whispers, pulling back and staring into his eyes. "Even before I saw you at the Alpine, I thought…"

"We're here now," he says quietly, trailing a hand down her back. "That's all that matters."

She leans against his chest, matching her breathing with the thrum of his heart.

After a short time, he nudges her shoulder. "Hey, uh – You have your phone on you?"

"It's in the pocket of my jacket," she says absently, glancing up and running a hand over his cheek. "Why?"

"It's nothing, really. Just one thing I have to do first, and then I'm all yours."

Sliding out from underneath her, he walks over to the window. Pulling his cell phone from his jeans pocket, he punches a button.

She eyes him speculatively, about to give voice to her question when he strikes preemptively. Holding up a hand, he signals "One minute," and turns his back.

"Hey, uh. It's me. Listen, a couple weeks ago I got the most _interesting_ voicemail; it's the weirdest thing, and… Look, I just wanted to say –" Clearing his throat gratuitously, he tries to disguise a laugh.

"I've never been a man with a plan, you know? But, uh. Mark your calendar. I'm unwrapping the good candy tonight." Turning on his heel, he throws a loaded smirk her way. "For the record, I like my candy a little nutty, so, uh..."

He stares at her, unblinking, and his voice drops an octave. "Take care of yourself, sweetheart."

Eyes fixed on her, he ends the call and tosses his phone toward the end table.

She shakes her head in vague disbelief, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. "You think you're real funny, don't you, Swarek?"

"I have my moments," he says with a shrug, feigning modesty.

"You waited all night to bring that up," she says accusingly, her narrowed eyes belying her amusement.

"Well, I think it's worth a mention," he replies, his eyes still on her face. "It's not every day a girl shows up on your doorstep, looking for some sweet, sweet… candy."

Candor seems the better part of valor tonight, and his accompanying wink triggers an unexpected burst of laughter from her.

"I can't believe you," she chokes out, any remaining tension draining from her body. "Honestly, Sam..."

"Hey," he says, biting back a grin. His eyes grow serious, and he lifts his hands in surrender. "You know I just like to see you smile, McNally."

Her gaze softens, and an unbidden smile slips out. "Yeah?"

He pretends to muse, the upturned corner of his mouth giving him away before he nods in assent. "Yeah."

Stretching a hand out, he tugs her from the couch. "I missed that smile. Too many days without it."

She sighs, but this time, it's a soft, pleased sound.

"We're gonna be okay, Andy," he murmurs into her hair. "You and me, we're gonna be okay."


End file.
